


From A Window

by forgiveninasong



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courfeyrac Is A Little Shit, M/M, Piningjolras, enjolras is bad at being subtle, grantaire is great as per, hopeless boys who are hopeless, passing mention of jehan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgiveninasong/pseuds/forgiveninasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't even realise that he'd been caught until he heard a snort from Courfeyrac.</p><p>"If you keep twisting your neck like that, I'm not going to stick around and listen to you whinge on when you complain that you 'must have slept funny'.  I'll just remind you of this very moment, and then go and buy some chocolate."</p><p>~</p><p>In which Enjolras is the least subtle person ever, who is fascinated with the cute boy in the block of flats opposite his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From A Window

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when you headcanon with people? This fic.

He didn't even realise that he'd been caught until he heard a snort from Courfeyrac.

"If you keep twisting your neck like that, I'm not going to stick around and listen to you whinge on when you complain that you 'must have slept funny'. I'll just remind you of this very moment, and then go and buy some chocolate."

Enjolras righted himself on his chair, jolting as if he'd just got an electric shock.

"I'm not...I me- I am  **not** looking over there," Enjolras stammered, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks.

Courfeyrac grinned.  "I never said anything about where you were looking, or more importantly, who you were looking at.  But now you come to mention it, you totally were staring over there."  Courfeyrac loved to wind Enjolras up about being the biggest and most obvious person in the world.

Enjolras tried to settle his face into a look that didn't scream 'love-sick puppy', but he could tell from the way that Courfeyrac was still looking at him with amusement, that it wasn't working.

"I was not.  **Looking.**  Now, shut up and make the tea, you great berk."  Enjolras spun on his chair, and pulled himself closer to his desk.  He hadn't realised just how far away from his desk he had ended up.  Maybe he needed to shift his desk a little more towards the window.  For natural light purposes, obviously.

-

He was at it again.  That was the fourth time this week that he'd caught the ridiculously hot blond in a suit, staring out of the window and towards his own.  Grantaire pouted slightly as he watched the boy jerk his head away and then after a minute or two, the boy spun his chair around and then rolled out of sight.

He'd first noticed him on Monday.  Grantaire had been shifting boxes around his flat, trying to make the place look less like he'd just moved in.  Which, in all fairness, he just had.  He'd been moving a box which was possibly full of either mugs or books, when he caught a glimpse of someone watching him from the office block opposite.

He didn't pay it another thought, until he saw the same blond-haired boy staring again.  He wondered if he should be worried.  He tried to get a better look at him, but by the time his vision had caught up with him, the boy had gone.  

Wednesday found Grantaire stood at his window, just in boxer shorts, eating Branston Pickle straight from the jar with a teaspoon.  He watched as the locks of blond hair, over a period of about ten minutes, drifted more and more into clear view of the window, and he smirked in amusement as he watched the boy trying to surreptitiously cast glances over his shoulder, whilst typing at the same time.  He continued to spoon pickle into his mouth, and stared right back.  Grantaire grinned as he watched the boy finally get a good look at him, and watched his face turn a shade of pink that was so adorable, he just wanted to run over to the office block and find this boy.  Feeling terribly lazy, however, he settled for sticking the spoon in his mouth, and stretching his arms over his head, careful not to spill the pickle from the jar.  Smiling to himself, he felt the boxers he was wearing slip slightly down his hips.  He sneakily got another glimpse of the boy's face turning even more pink, and just as he made direct eye contact once more, he turned around and walked back to his kitchen.

So by the time Thursday rolled around, and pretty boy was  **still** staring, Grantaire knew he had to do something about it.

-

Friday in the office was always a strange affair.  There was still a whole day's work to go, but the prospect of the weekend was always tantalisingly close.  Enjolras, however, found himself in a less-than-ideal mood.

He should be looking forward to two days of no work.  Anything that meant not having to get up at the crack of dawn to battle the morning city traffic.  He usually relished the chance to spend a couple of days in his flat doing very little and sleeping a lot.  It also didn't help that he'd not seen The Boy from Across the Road today.  Every time he'd looked over, the curtains had been closed.  Of course.  Maybe he'd figured out what was happening, and was trying to stop Enjolras peeking at him.  Sulking, Enjolras grumpily thumped at his keyboard, and he'd run his hands through his hair so many times that he looked like a really petulant dandelion.

Courfeyrac suddenly threw his pen down on his desk, and yelled, "I swear to God, Enjolras, if you don't stop sulking, I'm going to have to move your desk to the other side of the office!"  Courfeyrac's exasperated outburst was punctuated with the vibrating of his phone on his desk.

Enjolras tried to type a little quieter, and battled to tame his hair in the reflection from his computer screen.  Just when things had settled down a little, Courfeyrac suddenly let out a small squeak.

"What's wrong?" asked Enjolras, eager to get the attention away from himself.  

 "Oh it's...just.  Nothing, Enjolras, it's fine.  Quit fiddling with your hair.  It looks good as it is.  You look rumpled.  It suits you."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow.  "And I'm going to take advice from a guy who thinks flower crowns still look good on people."

Courfeyrac looked offended.  "Hey!  That's mean!  Besides, Jehan likes it when I wear them.  He says they make me look ethereal."  Enjolras could have sworn Courfeyrac's vision glazed over a little.  Enjolras scowled.

The phone on Courfeyrac's desk vibrated again.

"Turn that off, you pillock.  You know we're not meant to have those on," Enjolras hissed, looking around the office to see if anyone had noticed.  (And another glance out of the window, just to check.  Curtains still closed.)

Courfeyrac let out a laugh that he quickly stifled.  Enjolras just death-glared him.

"What is it now?" Enjolras sighed.

"None of your business!  And anyway, I think people would be more bothered about you neglecting your work all week to daydream out of the window, more than my phone vibrating a couple of times."  Courfeyrac didn't even look up from his phone as he furiously typed away.  

Enjolras was beyond confused.

-

_Text from Grantaire:_ _What did he say?_

**_You sent: Nothing.  Well, he sulked.  He's been sulking all day.  This had better be worth it!_ **

_Text from Grantaire: I'll be sure to let you know, in great detail, if it is.  Which it will be.  Because he will find it impossible to resist my wit._

**_You sent: I am *positive* that I do not need to hear about all of it.  Please.  My heart cannot take it._ **

_Text from Grantaire: Come on, Courf, don't be like that._

_Text from Grantaire: I'll buy your drinks for a week?_

**_You sent: Ah yes.  With your elusive "tab" system you have._ **

_Text from Grantaire: Hey!  My tab system is just fine._

**_You sent: Just make sure you don't get us banned from this pub.  I like this one._ **

_Text from Grantaire: OK, OK.  ANYWAY.  What's he doing now?_

**_You sent: Packing his bag and pouting.  I've had a WHOLE DAY of pouting.  Insufferable git._ **

_Text from Grantaire: Bless him.  Let me know when you're on your way down, ok?_

**_You sent: DO NOT BLESS HIM.  Grumpy Enjolras is mean.  He threw a pen at my head earlier._ **

_Text from Grantaire: You probably deserved it._

**_You sent: SHUT UP!_ **

**_You sent: Downstairs in 5 mins._ **

-

Enjolras stood at the back of the lift with Courfeyrac and a couple of other people from their floor.  He fiddled with the strap of his bag and teased at the errant curls that had fallen over his face.  Courfeyrac was typing away on his phone, fingers moving at lightning speed.  He was probably in the middle of some elaborate text poetry competition with Jehan.  It wouldn't have been the first time.    

"You coming for a drink, Courf?" asked Enjolras, eager to drown his frustrations into a bottle of wine.

"Hm?  Oh no, I can't.  I've got...er, this thing.  Very important."  Courfeyrac slid his phone into his coat pocket and smiled.  

The lift came to a stop, and people poured out once the doors opened.  Courfeyrac batted at Enjolras' hands as they continued incessantly to fiddle with his curls.  Defeated, Enjolras reached to tug up the collar of his coat, when he stopped dead in his tracks, making a noise fairly akin to a cat who had just had its tail stood on.  

He was just about to turn to Courfeyrac and express some kind of thought like "hey, so you know the guy I've been pining over all week?  Well he's now stood in the lobby and I don't think I can feel my face," but Courfeyrac had kept walking and was actually TALKING to the boy.

A million thoughts were running through Enjolras' head, as he watched Courfeyrac engaging in perfectly normal conversation with the boy who had captured most of his attention for the last week.  How was this even happening?!  How was Courfeyrac even able to talk to his boy, when Enjolras was having what was either an existential crisis or a heart attack?

How did Courfeyrac know who this guy was?!  And more importantly, why was Courfeyrac bringing him over?!  Enjolras' feet wouldn't move, and he could feel the panic rising.

"Enjolras.  I'd like you to meet Grantaire."  Courfeyrac had the biggest shit-eating grin.  Enjolras just about managed to resist punching it.  

Enjolras swallowed, trying to calm himself before he talked.  He could feel Grantaire looking at him.  He couldn't bring himself to look back yet, though, just in case Grantaire was mad at him for having perved on him the whole week, and this was actually some kind of intervention before Enjolras got carted away by the police or something.

Eventually, though, he turned to look at Grantaire, and managed to smile.  He could feel his face burning up.  

"Grantaire.  Good to meet you.  I-I'm sorry,  **how** do you two know each other?"  Enjolras was having trouble processing it all.  

"Enjolras... your name suits you," Grantaire sounded wistful, seemingly not having heard the question, his gaze not shifting from Enjolras' face.

-

Enjolras was even prettier close up than he was through windows.  How was his hair even real?!  He looked like some kind of god.  Like he'd just walked out of a Greek myth.  Grantaire could barely breathe.

He looked like he was about as speechless as Grantaire felt.  But then he said something and Grantaire felt his heart race faster.

Grantaire managed to speak eventually, but his hands were shaking and his heart wouldn't slow down.  He watched as Enjolras reached a hand up to play with the blond curls on his head, teasing one with his fingers and it fell down the centre of his forehead.  Dear God.

-

These two were ridiculous.  Why did he think the situation would have gone any other way than them both making panicked heart-eyes at each other?  It was only ever going to end this way.

And seeing as Grantaire wasn't answering Enjolras' hysterical outburst, "Grantaire is a friend of Jehan's.  And he's just moved into the flats across the road.  He came round on Tuesday night and mentioned this super-cute guy who had been perving on him from the office block opposite."  He giggled a little as he watched Enjolras blushing furiously.  "Anyway, once I'd finished laughing for ten minutes, and once I'd convinced Jehan that I wasn't actually going mad, I managed to work out that the guy Grantaire was waxing lyrical about was the very same guy who has been staring out of the window all week."  Courfeyrac was pleased with himself.  This was the longest he'd ever seen Enjolras lost for words.

"And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I've got a hot date with a Chinese takeaway and my poetical boyfriend."

He almost wished that he could stick around to listen to these two trying to regain the power of speech, but he figured he'd done enough match-making for one week.

-

"Uh.  Look.  What Courfeyrac said-" Enjolras was interrupted.

"Oh don't worry about it.  I noticed you on Monday and basically hung around my window all week, trying to get another glimpse of you," Grantaire smiled.  Enjolras felt the bottom of his stomach fall out.

"Great.  I mean- what I mean is, I'm glad I'm not the only was who was doing that," Enjolras internally congratulated himself at being able to sort of speak some form of a sentence.  

Grantaire was just looking at him, with his astoundingly deep green eyes, and Enjolras could barely tear his gaze away.

"So..." Grantaire grinned.  "You wanna get out of here?  I know a place really close to here.  It's got fantastic views..."

Enjolras chuckled, taking Grantaire's hand and walking with him out of the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please come and find me on [tumblr](http://forgiveninasong.tumblr.com)! I love making new friends!
> 
> Also, eating Branston Pickle from a jar with a teaspoon is my life goal. The epitome of being nearly 30, and perpetually single. And if you don't know what Branston Pickle is, [here is a link](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Branston_\(brand\)) and you should all try it.


End file.
